Wake Ups
by brightfairylights
Summary: "Ugh, your freaking out is disturbing my sleep, Spacey. Can you like chill like every other normal person this early in the morning?"...Or, every time Casey woke up next to Derek. DASEY
1. Chapter 1

1.

It's 8AM and three days before Christmas and she wakes up next to him on the sofa. His legs are sprawled on top of her lap, a single toe sticking out of a hole in his sock, and one of his arms is falling off the sofa whilst the other is thrown across his face in an attempt to block out the rising sun. (_Did she really forget to close the curtains last night?) _She wonders how he's managed to sleep so comfortably because her neck is stiff and painful from leaning against the back cushion and one of her hands in numb from where it's been crushed under his calf. As she starts to properly focus on the room before her she notices the two empty bottles of cheap Niagara wine on the coffee table.

_Oh god._

The headache hits her like a tidal wave, and she shuts her eyes with a groan. She tries to remember exactly _why _she was there, on the sofa, hungover, squished, and in pain, when she was meant to be up and out buying last minute Christmas presents for her family. Her family who were expecting her and the _source of the squishing_ by dinner time today.

_High school Casey _would be so disappointed in her.

Heck, even her mother would be disappointed in her.

God, how was she going to make it to the mall to get presents, pick up the new tree (_she loved Lizzie dearly, but refusing to celebrate Christmas with the real they had already bought in protest of deforestation was really adding to her stress levels), _and make the drive all the way to London from their apartment in Queens? She was already an hour behind her schedule and in her current state she honestly considered giving up and crawling to her bedroom and sleeping until the holiday season was over.

"Ugh, your freaking out is disturbing my sleep, Spacey. Can you like chill like every other normal person this early in the morning?"

She's surprised he managed to get so many words out, not just because it's so early and most likely as hungover as she is, but because she didn't know he knew that many.

But that doesn't quell her for long.

"Derek! We're already an hour behind schedule! We have to get to the mall before it gets too busy!" Her head hurts with every word she says but she's quite impressed at how much energy she sounds like she has.

Derek lets out a weird garbled noise that sounds an awful lot like "fuck no" and shifts so he's facing the back of the sofa and nearly kicks her in the face.

"Der-ek!" She hisses, ignoring the throbbing in her head and the pricks in her hand as she begins to regain feeling in it. With her good hand she smacks him and then shoves his legs off her lap. He squeaks (_actually squeaks) _and sort of falls off the sofa and awkwardly lands on the floor in a pile of chip crumbs.

Leaving him lying there she marches as best she can to the bathroom and slams the door. Which was a mistake because the slamming just made her headache triple in ferocity. Pinching the bridge of her nose she fumbles for the tap for the shower and turns it on. Cranking the heat up to almost-unbearable, she takes a moment to take in her disheveled appearance in the mirror.

She really does look a mess.

Her makeup is all smudged and the pretty white blouse she had been wearing the night before was now…stained with wine. Great.

(_"I bet you can't drink from your glass without using your hands." "Oh yeah?"_)

There's a bruise forming on her elbow (_"Der-ek! Don't throw the remote you're going to hit something!"), _and her hair is all over the place (_"I bet I can do a headstand for longer than you!" "I'm a former dancer you moron, of course I can last longer than you.")_

She scowls at her reflection and uses twice as much conditioner as normal. She curses Derek for making her shampoo/conditioner system go all out of whack.


	2. Chapter 2

**…****_Thank you so much for the story follows and reviews, it means a lot! I'm so glad the Dasey fanbase is still alive and kicking!…_**

2.

It's 2AM and from the moment her eyes open she knows something is wrong. It's the smell that hits her first, the distinct scent of a hospital hallway, and her nose wrinkles. Her neck hurts and she's _freezing_, hands fisted in the sleeves of her coat, legs crossed tightly. Exhausted doesn't even seems to sum up how tired she feels. In front of her there's an ugly painting of some weird clown like creatures. Why was she here? How long had she been here? Her mind seems to be going a million miles a second and yet she can't form a proper thought. Her cheeks feel damp and as she reaches up to touch them there's movement beside her.

"You okay?" Derek's voice is all gravelly and it sends a shiver down her spine. She looks up at him, not even attempting to hide her concern.

_(God he looks terrible.)_

"Wh—" She begins, frantically searching his face for a clue.

"I haven't heard anything for hours. I think he's still in surgery."

_Edwin. Oh god Edwin._

Her stomach twists in a horrible way as the events of the last 24 hours come back to her. The call from her mother, screaming into the phone that they need to come to the hospital. Derek, racing to start the car as she grabbed random items of clothing and bare essentials. Her, juggling calls and texts from Lizzie and Marti and Nora and George all while trying to relay as much information to Derek as he sped down the highway.

_(He will be okay. He will be okay. He will be okay.) _

She finds herself at a loss for words. She wants to comfort Derek, comfort herself with words to quell her doubts and fears, but there's this lump in her throat and it hurts to swallow and oh god she's crying.

"Case," he murmurs, eyes falling to the floor. Her heart hurts because she should be the strong. She's a grown woman, she needs to be there for Derek, who is clearly fighting with the broken pieces of his bravery. His carefully constructed facade is gone now, his face showing every emotion. The fear, the worry, the sadness…she hates how much it pains her to see him like this.

"He'll be all right," she manages to croak. She's sweeping together every ounce of her courage and she hopes it will be enough to hold her together. Wiping at her cheeks she takes a shuddering breath. "He's going to be all right, I know it."

Her arm seems to move without her brain telling it to, because the next thing she knows she's grasping his hand as if it's the only thing tethering her to the ground beneath them. _(Don't think about why it feels so right. Don't think about how it makes this horrible and terrifying time that little bit easier to face. Don't think about how it would be so easy to stay like this forever.) _He doesn't seem to acknowledge it at first, still looking very pointedly at his feet, entire body tense, but the contact makes her own shoulders loosen and she leans into him, squeezing his hand.

It's as though the elastic holding him together snaps with her movement, his entire body seems to collapse into her, any distance between them gone. The physical and emotional turmoil seems to have finally caught up to him.

"I'm so scared, Casey," he whispers after a minute of silence only broken by her shaking breaths. "I…I don't know what I'd do without him."

She can't bring herself to say anything but she holds him tight, comforting him in the best way she can. The minutes fade into hours, hours of clinging to hope and to each other, waiting and wondering.

_(It will all be okay. It will all be okay. It will all be okay.)_


End file.
